


Just Trust Me, Yuuri

by DeathBelle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, If you're sensitive to that kind of thing, M/M, Maybe a hint of Dubious Consent?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: “I want to do this for you,” said Victor. He flattened a palm against Yuuri’s stomach, stroked his thumb over the smooth skin. “I want you to feel the way I feel when I’m watching you skate. I want you to feel good, Yuuri.” Even with one eye covered by silver hair, his gaze was piercing. “Let me make you feel good.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place directly after episode 7, so if you haven't seen it there will be spoilers.
> 
> This is the longest smut I've ever written. I'm both proud and ashamed.

The heat was nearly suffocating. It pressed against Yuuri’s bare skin, cloaking him in steam, cradling him in warmth. He ducked his head beneath the scalding shower spray and the water soaked through his hair, streaming into his face, covering his eyes and his mouth and his nose and making it hard to breathe.

He whipped his head back with a deep breath, shaking some of the water out of his dripping hair. He held his hands beneath the spray and watched the steady stream spatter and drip from his palms. His fingers shook; he was still full of adrenalin following the conclusion of the Cup of China, and a 45-minute shower had done little to subdue his nervous energy.

He hadn’t won. Phichit had taken that honor, and Yuuri wasn’t bitter. Phichit was an excellent skater. He deserved the gold.

After all, Yuuri hadn’t left empty-handed. He’d been awarded silver for the event, following the best public performance of his career. He’d also been rewarded with a little something extra from Victor, something that perhaps he should have seen coming but most certainly had not. 

He touched hot, water-pruned fingertips to his lips, which still tingled at the thought of Victor. 

Everyone had seen them. All the people in the audience, all those who followed the broadcast in their homes, all those who would, in the future, rewatch the event. Everyone had been watching, but Victor hadn’t cared. Yuuri would have, if he hadn’t been so overwhelmed by the touch and taste and sensation of Victor that he had no thought to spare for anyone or anything else.

The water still ran hot, but considering the quality of the hotel he expected it would never go cold. With slow, languid movements that were meant to calm himself down, Yuuri turned off the water and reached for the towel that hung just outside the shower door. It was white and fluffy and comforting, and Yuuri buried his face in it and considered never emerging. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He didn’t know, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Where did he stand with Victor now? Would they remain as they were, a coach and his often-incompetent student? Or had something changed following the Cup, would something be inherently different between them?

Maybe Yuuri would get to kiss Victor again. Maybe it wouldn’t be a one-time thing, the high point of his life from which all else would pale in comparison.

Or maybe he was expecting too much. 

It was difficult for him to understand Victor on a number of levels. This was one of those things, likely something that he couldn’t comprehend based on a differentiation of culture. Victor was very physically affectionate; Yuuri had learned that within hours of meeting him. Maybe the kiss meant nothing to Victor. Maybe it was just a way to show his appreciation of Yuuri’s skating, to reward him for a job well done.

Maybe he didn’t care for Yuuri nearly as much as Yuuri cared for him.

Yuuri pressed the towel more tightly over his face. He considered suffocating himself in it so he wouldn’t have to think anymore. 

He dropped it away with a sigh before scrubbing the towel over his dripping hair. Slowly he dried the rest of his body, trying to think of something other than Victor and miserably failing.

He padded across the bathroom floor on bare feet. The mirror was fogged over and he wiped a streak of visibility through the steam. He saw a hazy reflection of himself, hair plastered to his forehead, dark rings still painted beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, a flush beneath the skin of his cheeks from the shower’s heat. 

He was a mess. He’d always been a mess.

Yuuri sighed and looked away from himself. He reached for his clothes at the end of the sink and paused, arm extended toward nothing.

His clothes were gone.

He stared at the vacant space on the countertop, where he distinctly remembered placing a neat stack of clothing before he got into the shower. 

He turned and looked toward the corner where he’d discarded his borrowed skating attire. 

It was gone, too.

Yuuri blinked a few times, trying to puzzle it out. His first thought was that the maids had cleaned up after him, but they wouldn’t have touched his clothes, right? Surely they wouldn’t have entered the room in which he was bathing, either, unless China had distinctly different customs than any other country he’d visited.

He moved toward the bathroom door, reached to open it, and paused with his fingers brushing the handle.

From beyond the door he heard very faint music, which he definitely had not left on when he’d entered the bathroom.

He tilted his head close to the door, listening.

The music was soft, gentle. There was an equally gentle voice humming along with the melody, perfect in pitch and familiar to a degree that made Yuuri’s stomach lurch. _Victor._

He whirled away from the door, a burst of panic blooming in his chest. 

What was Victor doing in his room? After the medals had been awarded they had gone to their respective rooms to get some rest. Yuuri had locked himself in. He thought he would have until at least the following day to sort out what had happened with Victor. 

He couldn’t deal with it right now. It was too soon. He didn’t know what to say.

And he definitely couldn’t say anything meaningful while he was naked.

Yuuri grabbed the towel that he had discarded on the floor and wrapped it tightly around his hips. He wished he could drape it over his entire body, and if it had been larger he would have. 

It wasn’t as if Victor had never seen him naked. It had been slightly awkward, but not strange. Yuuri knew it would be now, though. After the kiss, whether Victor had meant anything by it or not, Yuuri knew he was always going to feel differently.

Yuuri finally battled his reluctance into submission and pushed the door open just far enough to peer out.

Victor sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in the same clothes he’d worn to the event. He was smiling a little, humming to himself, focused on the phone in his hand.

Yuuri belatedly realized it was _his_ phone.

“Victor?” he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, hi, Yuuri!” said Victor. He smiled up at him briefly before looking back down at the phone. “Your mother called. Eight times.”

Yuuri felt a nervous lurch in his stomach. “Yeah, she called before I got in the shower.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing,” said Yuuri. “I mean, I didn’t answer.”

Victor’s expression turned gently stern. “You shouldn’t ignore your mother, Yuuri.”

“I’m not. Well, I did, but… I’m going to call her back. Tomorrow, probably, when I know what to say to her. I just can’t right now.”

Victor frowned. Then he put the phone back on the end table where he’d found it and offered Yuuri his undivided attention. “Don’t hover in the doorway, Yuuri. Come in here, I need to talk to you.”

Yuuri hesitated, then took a few small steps into the room. He glanced around and saw his clothes stacked neatly on the compact desk in the corner.

“Did you take my clothes?”

“I want to talk to you,” said Victor, ignoring the question, “about the competition today.”

Yuuri suppressed a flutter of disappointment. Of course Victor was only concerned about the competition and Yuuri’s performance. That was his job, after all, as a coach. 

“What about it?” said Yuuri. “I know I didn’t win the gold, but next time I-”

“Nonsense,” said Victor, cutting him off. “You did brilliantly.”

Yuuri blinked. “Then what-”

“Come here.” Victor patted the bed. “Sit.”

Yuuri hesitated. He didn’t really want to be that close to Victor again, not yet, but he couldn’t think of a reason to deny him. This was normal, after all. There was nothing strange about sitting with his mentor to talk about a competition.

If he had been fully clothed it would have been a bit more comfortable, though.

He shuffled across the carpet and perched on the edge of the bed, gripping his towel all the while.

When he sat, Victor sighed. He pushed silver hair out of his face and Yuuri’s eyes lingered on Victor’s forearm. His coat had been discarded on a hook near the door and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. 

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri tried not to flinch, but couldn’t keep himself from reacting a little to the sound of his name in Victor’s voice.

“Y-yes?”

Victor’s hand rose between them. His fingers brushed over Yuuri’s cheek, lightly. He caressed the side of Yuuri’s face, threaded fingers gently through Yuuri’s hair, and stilled with Yuuri’s jaw cradled in his palm.

Yuuri felt his face heating and could do nothing to stop it.

Victor’s eyes were piercing, like the ice on which he’d become a legend. Yuuri felt he needed to look away; the eye contact was too intense. 

He darted his gaze to the side but Victor applied a touch of pressure on the side of his face and forced him to look back.

“I want to give you something,” said Victor. His voice was rich velvet. It had taken Yuuri some time to get used to the Russian accent that ran beneath his words in an exotic undercurrent, but now it seemed normal, comfortable.

“Like… like a present?” asked Yuuri, hyperaware of Victor’s lingering touch.

“Not really,” said Victor vaguely. 

Yuuri started to ask another question, but it was forgotten when Victor moved closer, his gaze sharpening.

“You did brilliantly,” Victor repeated. The words were so close that Yuuri almost felt them vibrate on his own lips. “I’m so proud, Yuuri.”

“Th-thank you, Vi-”

The name died on his lips as Victor leaned in to kiss him. 

A jolt of shock struck Yuuri like lightning, leaving him breathless. He was aware that Victor’s mouth was pressing against his, soft and warm and dry. He was also aware that he needed to either pull away or kiss him back, and he knew he would never pull away, but he didn’t quite know how to kiss him back, either.

Before his mind could filter through the sensory overload Victor broke away. He eyed Yuuri with something like concern.

“Are you okay?” said Victor, his voice scraping more deeply.

Yuuri bit down on a shudder.

“I, uh… I-I guess so?”

“If something was wrong,” said Victor, “you would tell me, right? I am your coach, after all. I need you to tell me these things.”

Yuuri only half-grasped what he was saying. “Yes,” he said, because it seemed to be the correct answer. “Yes, I would tell you.”

Victor seemed satisfied. His mouth curved with a hint of a smile. “Good.”

He leaned in again, and this time Yuuri was expecting it.

Despite that, the sensation of Victor’s mouth on his was mind-numbing. It took several seconds for him to react, but Victor was patient. He grazed his fingers through Yuuri’s wet hair, inched closer to him on the bed until their legs pressed together.

When Yuuri finally coaxed himself into motion, hesitantly pressing his lips back against Victor’s, he felt fingers tighten in his hair.

Victor kissed him more deeply, his nose brushing against Yuuri’s, his hand moving down to cradle the back of Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri thought his chest would explode from the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.

He pulled back and exhaled a shuddering breath, looking at Victor through a haze of shock and lust and uncertainty.

Victor stared back for a moment, then his gaze dropped.

Yuuri suddenly remembered he was wearing nothing but a towel.

He moved to stand up, but Victor’s grip on his arm stopped him.

“I said I want to give you something,” said Victor. “Don’t you want it?”

Yuuri wasn’t certain that his heart could handle anything that Victor wanted to give him.

“I, umm… Well, I- Victor, wait!”

He was suddenly lifted off the edge of the bed and gently tossed into the center of the mattress. He bounced once and tried to scramble away, but Victor was there, climbing on top of him, pinning him down.

“Victor, wait, I-”

“Just relax,” Victor said, the words nearly a whisper. He hovered on his hands and knees over Yuuri, staring down at him with a lazy smile. He brought a hand back to Yuuri’s face and stroked a thumb along his cheekbone. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Yuuri opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

He did trust Victor.

Right?

Victor lowered himself and resumed their kiss, his lips fitting against Yuuri’s and moving with them, coaxing him into returning the affection. 

Slowly, Yuuri started relaxing beneath him. It was hard to remain tense when he was being kissed with such softness, when all he could taste and feel and smell was Victor Nikiforov, who had been his idol and then his coach and was now something that he couldn’t quite put a name to. 

Just as he was getting comfortable he felt the press of Victor’s tongue. It startled him into a gasp and Victor took that as an invitation. Victor’s tongue slipped between Yuuri’s lips, hot and warm and wet as he licked into Yuuri’s mouth. 

Yuuri shuddered and unconsciously reached up to fist his hands into the front of Victor’s shirt.

He reciprocated the kiss, slid his tongue against Victor’s, swallowed down the small sounds that itched at the back of his throat.

Victor tilted Yuuri’s head back and kissed him more deeply, their tongues pressing and swirling and dancing, the two of them breathing each other’s exhales. 

Yuuri had to consciously stop himself from making any sounds, because he knew they would be desperate and embarrassing. 

Victor broke the kiss, breathing heavily over Yuuri’s face, a touch of color in his cheeks. He lowered his head and nuzzled his nose against the side of Yuuri’s burning face, his lips brushing lightly over his cheeks and then his jaw, traveling down to his neck.

Yuuri gasped as Victor flicked his tongue against the smooth skin of Yuuri’s neck, then lightly sucked on the moist flesh. He traveled lower, kissing and sucking and licking, and lightly sank his teeth into the juncture of Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri sucked in an audible breath and arched beneath Victor, startled by his own response. He tried to wriggle away, suddenly aware that the towel draped over his hips wouldn’t adequately conceal his body’s interest in their current situation.

Victor mumbled something, the words muffled by Yuuri’s shoulder, and rolled his hips against Yuuri’s.

Yuuri made a sound that was part gasp and part squeak. He recoiled from Victor and pushed against his chest, trying to put distance between them.

Victor didn’t budge.

“Is something wrong?” said Victor, as if they’d done this plenty of times before and he couldn’t fathom why it would make Yuuri uncomfortable.

“We need to stop,” Yuuri said, breathless.

“Why would we do that? We’re just getting started.” 

Victor’s fingers were suddenly tugging at the edge of the towel. Yuuri seized it and held it in place. If he looked down he could see himself bulging against the towel. He bit his lip and looked up at Victor instead.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” said Victor. He pulled at the towel again. “I’ve seen you naked before, Yuuri.”

“Not like this!” he protested. 

Victor studied him for a long moment. Then he sighed and relinquished his grip. 

Relieved, Yuuri settled the towel more securely over his hips, trying to assure the best possible coverage.

Victor sat back on his heels, still straddling Yuuri’s thighs. He was frowning, a sheen of silver hair concealing his left eye.

“I thought you trusted me, Yuuri.”

“I do! This is just… it’s different,” Yuuri protested. “I’ve never… _you know_.”

“That’s why you need to trust me.” Victor brushed his fingers along Yuuri’s side, tickling over his ribs. “I want to give you something, Yuuri.”

“You don’t have to.”

Victor’s frown deepened. A pair of lines appeared between his brow that would have been wrinkles had they not vanished when his face again smoothed out. 

“I want to do this for you,” said Victor. He flattened a palm against Yuuri’s stomach, stroked his thumb over the smooth skin. “I want you to feel the way I feel when I’m watching you skate. I want you to feel good, Yuuri.” Even with one eye covered, his gaze was piercing. “Let me make you feel good.”

Yuuri’s mouth was dry. He tried to swallow, but it didn’t help. 

He felt the only thing that could quench his thirst was if Victor kissed him again.

Yuuri gnawed on his lip for a moment, thinking. Victor watched him with intense interest, not moving from where he sat perched atop Yuuri like a predator.

“I just…” Yuuri started, faltering. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Victor’s frown was wiped away by a smile that lit his eyes like sunlight. “You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”

In one quick motion he yanked off Yuuri’s towel and tossed it over his shoulder.

Yuuri reached down to cover himself but Victor seized his wrists and left him exposed. He pinned Yuuri’s arms on either side of his shoulders, leaning forward to whisper into Yuuri’s lips.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’re beautiful, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s face flushed even more hotly. Victor kissed him again, and he kissed back without hesitation. 

Victor moved down to Yuuri’s neck again, teasing the skin between his teeth, laving it with his tongue, making Yuuri shudder beneath him. He littered kisses down to Yuuri’s collarbone, spared a lick to one of his nipples, then shimmied further down.

Yuuri sat up slightly to watch him descend, his nervousness returning.

“Victor, I don’t-”

The sentence was broken with a cry of surprise as Victor effortlessly flipped Yuuri onto his stomach. He planted a hand in the middle of Yuuri’s back so he wouldn’t struggle.

“Just relax,” said Victor. “You said you trust me.”

Yuuri huffed out an exhale. He tried to settle in, but it was difficult when he couldn’t see Victor and had no idea what he was about to do.

Victor’s hand trailed over his back, then he squeezed Yuuri’s ass with both hands. Yuuri made a muffled sound into the mattress and closed his eyes against his own embarrassment.

He should’ve known what was coming, especially when Victor pulled his cheeks apart and he felt a puff of hot air. Even so, he was completely unprepared when Victor’s tongue swiped over his entrance. 

“Victor, wait!” his protest was strangled as he tried to squirm away, but Victor’s firm grip held him in place. “You can’t-”

There was another stripe of wet heat, this time lingering. Victor’s tongue circled, toyed, and Yuuri couldn’t find his voice anymore.

It returned in full force when Victor’s tongue dipped into Yuuri, stretching him.

“Victor – _ahh_ …” Yuuri bit down on his hand to muffle the moan caught in his throat. 

There was another puff of hot air as Victor stifled a chuckle. He flattened his tongue against Yuuri’s entrance and then prodded inside again.

Yuuri fisted his free hand in the sheets and struggled to breathe.

A moment later he was flipped onto his back again, but Victor didn’t give him a chance to recover. This time it was a finger circling Yuuri’s entrance, gently prodding against the slight resistance, gradually sinking inside.

Yuuri opened his eyes and found Victor crouched between his legs, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and blown pupils. Victor licked his lips and Yuuri had to muffle another moan.

Victor leaned forward, dragged his tongue over Yuuri’s length at an agonizingly slow pace, and then completely withdrew.

Yuuri felt like a wrung-out dishrag.

He sat halfway up and watched as Victor started unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing the broad, pale chest beneath. When the shirt hit the floor he started unbuckling his belt, never looking away from Yuuri.

“I was thinking of this,” he said, voice low, “while I was watching you skate today. It’s all I could think about. You’re irresistible, Yuuri. If you wanted me to stop now I would try-” he yanked his belt free in one pull and let it slither to the ground. Yuuri shuddered. “-but it would be very difficult.”

Yuuri just stared. 

Victor stilled with his fingers resting on the hem of his pants. “Do you want me to stop, Yuuri?”

Yuuri suddenly forgot how to speak. He struggled with himself for a moment, then managed a choppy, “No. I- I don’t. Want that. Please.”

Victor’s smile was soft, but something in his eyes was dagger-sharp.

“Good. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

He popped the button of his pants and slithered out of them with a grace that Yuuri could not have matched. He was bare underneath; apparently Victor Nikoforov had no use for underwear. He draped the pants on the edge of the bed, within close reach, and leaned over Yuri again. 

This time Yuuri knew what was going to happen, and he found it a little easier to relax. Victor’s finger prodded at him, sank in with less resistance. He moved it around, stretching, and at the same time dug into the pocket of his pants with his free hand. 

A snapping sound followed, Victor retreated, and when he returned, his finger entered with even more ease, dripping with lube. 

If Yuuri had been capable of sparing any logical thought he would have wondered how long Victor had planned this, if he’d brought lube to China specifically for this or if he’d acquired it more recently.

But Yuuri couldn’t think. He could only lay back and feel and try not to make all of the noises that clawed at his throat as Victor slipped in another finger, stretching him even more.

Victor used his other hand to fondle Yuuri’s balls, then walked his fingers up and lightly grasped his dick.

“Move your hand,” said Victor. “There’s no need to be shy.”

Yuuri just shook his head and kept his hand over his mouth. He was beyond speaking.

“Come on,” purred Victor. “Please?” His pushed his fingers in more deeply, flicked his tongue against the head of Yuuri’s dick. “For me?”

Yuuri shook his head again.

Then Victor’s fingers pushed deeper, a thrum of sensation racked Yuuri’s body with such force that it almost numbed him, and he grasped at the sheets with both hands. Victor’s name left his mouth in a desperate shout, unmuffled.

Victor made a humming sound and smirked, lips pressed against Yuuri’s dick. He moved his fingers again, elicited another sound that was a blend of a moan and a sob, and then withdrew.

He reached for his discarded pants again, and this time Yuuri watched with hazy eyes as he plucked out a condom. 

Yuuri couldn’t look away as the package was opened, or when the condom was rolled carefully onto Victor’s dick. He watched closely as Victor again uncapped the lube and doused himself with it, stroking himself with a lazy flick of his wrist. 

“Victor?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you… you’re not going to hurt me, right?”

Victor blinked, startled by the question. “Of course not, Yuuri. I would never hurt you.” His face shifted into a sharp smirk, one that left Yuuri breathless. “At least, not unless you asked me to.”

Yuuri didn’t have the presence of mind to process that. He watched as Victor again shifted to hover over him, pressing their bare bodies together. Victor’s form was firm with muscle and Yuuri wanted to reach out and touch him.

Until he regained control of his extremities, though, that probably wasn’t going to happen.

Victor dipped his head for another kiss. When he pulled back he said, “Are you ready, Yuuri?”

Yuuri swallowed, then nodded. 

Victor’s tongue traced Yuuri’s lower lip. “Good. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good.”

Then Victor was pressing against him and Yuuri tried to relax as instructed. It was difficult, though, when it was Victor Nikiforov’s dick slowly sliding into him and Victor Nikiforov’s bare chest touching his and Victor Nikoforov’s tongue diving between his lips. 

Victor snaked a hand between them and gently gripped Yuuri’s dick, making him gasp. He stroked it slowly, languidly, brushing his thumb over the head. 

Yuuri moaned into Victor’s mouth. His hands finally moved and they gripped at Victor’s muscled shoulders, nails digging into flesh. 

Victor made a sound against Yuuri’s lips and pushed himself deeper.

When he sank as far as he could, Victor pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s and their breaths mingled. Yuuri was panting, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.

Victor traced Yuuri’s jaw line with a fingertip, and Yuuri closed his eyes to the feather-light touch.

Victor kissed him again, and while their tongues glided together he slowly pulled out. Yuuri gasped and clenched Victor’s shoulders more tightly, as if trying to hold him in place.

Victor paused, counted ten of Yuuri’s rapid heartbeats, then rolled his hips forward and buried himself inside Yuuri with one smooth motion.

“ _Ahhhngh_.” Yuuri’s moan was muffled when he bit his lip, teeth sinking into soft pink flesh. 

Victor waited for him to stop before leaning down and biting Yuuri’s lip himself, rolling it gently between his teeth. 

Yuuri’s moan was all heat, and it made Victor shudder.

He pumped into Yuuri at a steady pace, relishing the sounds he drew from him, enthralled by the sensation of Yuuri’s skin against his own. He nibbled on the side of Yuuri’s neck, licked against his skin, allowed his own moan to escape.

When Yuuri started fidgeting Victor picked up the pace. He started thrusting more quickly, feeling his own pleasure build, enhanced by the view of Yuuri’s red, flustered face. Yuuri’s dick bobbed between them and Victor wrapped a hand around it, earning another lusty sound from Yuuri’s lips. Victor kissed him again, just so he could taste the desperate little cries. 

“ _Victor_.” The name was forced through a gasp, hot against Victor’s mouth. “I’m almost… I’m going to… _Ahh_!”

Victor shifted his hips and thrust into Yuuri hard, striking him in just the right spot. He pounded it again, and then again, his wrist twisting as he synchronized his strokes with his own hips, overloading Yuuri as much as possible.

It didn’t take long. One of Yuuri’s hands flew to his mouth and he bit down as he came, spewing over Victor’s fingers and onto his own chest, Victor’s name muffled as it left his lips.

Watching Yuuri’s orgasm only stoked Victor’s lust. He planted his hands against the mattress and started thrusting more vigorously, not looking away from Yuuri’s face. 

“Ah,” said Victor, the syllable dripping from his lips without his full consent. “Yuuri, you’re beautiful. You’re so – ah – _beautiful_.”

Yuuri’s chest heaved beneath him, splattered with come. His lips were bright red, swollen and abused. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils still blown, staring up at Victor as if he was the only thing left in the world.

Victor squeezed his eyes shut, tightened his grip on the sheets, and came with a low, wordless moan. His jaw was clenched but he tasted Yuuri’s name on his tongue, waiting to spill from his lips. 

He rode out his orgasm and stayed in place, limbs shaking as he supported himself over Yuuri.

Fingers combed through his hair and he opened his eyes to find Yuuri still looking at him, the touch of a smile on his lips. 

“Yuuri,” said Victor, the name finally escaping. 

He pulled out, which made Yuuri wince, and fell onto his side. He watched Yuuri closely, waiting for any indication of discomfort, but he seemed content.

“I’ve waited too long to do that,” said Victor.

“Not as long as I have.” As soon as the words left his mouth Yuuri blushed. He tried to turn his face away but Victor lightly grasped his chin and coaxed him back into a kiss. 

The lazy kisses lasted for a few minutes, then Yuuri sighed and sank back against the mattress. “I need another shower.”

Victor chuckled. “Great. I’ll join you.” He rose to his knees and shucked off the condom, leaning over to drop it in the wastebasket next to the bed. 

“Not sure I’ll be able to stay awake, though,” said Yuuri. “I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t worry,” said Victor. “I won’t let you drown.”

“Good, because I- Victor, put me down!”

“Just relax,” said Victor. He hefted Yuuri in his arms and started toward the bathroom. He smiled down at Yuuri and offered a coy wink. “I’ve got you. Just trust me.”

As they showered together, Yuuri slouched against the shower wall while Victor washed away the remnants of their activities, Yuuri realized he’d never trusted anyone more.


End file.
